| [Jun. 5th, 2009|03:14 am] |
Thanks. For bringin' me back.
Same words, same scent of charred flowers and exhausted grief, same red-rimmed eyes that were a half-step from tears, but Ginta wasn't Ryouma, and Kakashi was so tired of gratitude from half-broken men.
He took a long breath between his teeth, trying to re-centre himself. Ryouma wasn't dead. Ginta wasn't dead. And even if they both insisted on talking like they were getting ready to say their last words and good-byes (thank-yous were always bad), he hadn't managed to kill them yet.
He hadn't.
The thought brought strength, tempered by the weight of Tsuyako's death, but there. He brought his hand slowly back to Ginta's forehead, smoothing smoke-blackened hair from sweat-dewed skin.
Don't thank me, rookie. Just insult me like you know you want to.
This time, all he said was, "You're welcome." |
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